


Reset

by Hasegawa



Category: DCU
Genre: Amnesia, Brain Damage, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-05-26 10:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hasegawa/pseuds/Hasegawa
Summary: Have you ever wish you can reset your life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Retrograde](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084504) by [agent37 (kaivevo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaivevo/pseuds/agent37). 



John Doe entered the shop he had been working on for the past six months. It was the only place in Bludhaven who would employ him, because of his condition. He was in a coma for three weeks before waking up with no memories and body full of scars. The hospital told him that he might be an mobbed abuse survivor of some sort, found in one of the alleyway, bloodied with severe trauma on his head and broken limbs. He was unable to walk properly and has no concept of perception. He misplaced his keys almost everyday now. A charity foundation took his case and he now lived in a shelter sharing a room with two other homeless men, almost a year now. They sort of fed him and helped with the cost of therapy, but that’s the end of their assistance. John needed to work to fulfil his other needs.

 

The shop was owned by a sympathetic hippie couple whom sell organic coffee and spices. They also employed the crippled and charity case, which suits John’s condition. The pay was small and barely enough, but John was thankful for them. John couldn’t stand too long on his healing feet, and they gave him periodic sitting time. John also couldn’t remember much as his short term memory was also impaired, so he got the job of cleaning. Sometimes John couldn’t differentiate between a mop and a bucket. But the owner gave him chances after chances, so he kept working there. It helped that he was young and good looking too (funny enough, his face wasn’t scratched as much).

 

John started working his daily task. After several weeks on the duty, his body started to remember the task. It was good, as his head was hurting. He slowly working through the front of the shop, cleaning it from dried leaves and dust. It was then suddenly someone shout and he turned.

 

“TIM? TIM!”

 

Who was it? John didn’t know why he turned, but since it wasn’t his name anyway, he returned to the task on hand. But a hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned to see a tall, lean policeman with a sunglasses on. If John was honest, the man looked hot as hell. But he knew his chances to get laid with his condition are second to none (and he didn’t have the stamina either), so he ignored it.

 

“Do I know you?” John asked politely, wishing the man stopped grabbing his shoulder.

 

“Tim? It’s me, Dick!” he looked frantic, “Finally, where have you been?”

 

John blinked and nodded. Maybe its a slang or something. He didn’t understand why a person would call himself a dick, but maybe John lost the social cues due to the brain injury. And then he seemed to forget again.

 

“Who are you?” John asked. The person visibly deflated.

 

“It’s me, Richard? Your brother?”

 

Oh. John has a brother? That’s new. Its been ... a year? And no one actually ask around for him. So forgive John if he didn’t believe it. He blinked. His head started to hurt. Maybe it’s time for a short break. He could sit while sweeping. He was good at it after practicing it for the past three months.

 

“Sorry Sir.” John shook his head. “ I don’t know you, maybe you have the wrong person.”

 

The man looked unsure for a moment before touching John’s face. “No. I am ... or maybe yeah, I am mistaken you for someone. Please tell me what’s your name?”

 

John didn’t like how he sees him. Just when suddenly the shop’s door was opened and the owner came out. She looked at the stranger and immediately pulled John towards her.

 

“Go in, John.” She ordered. John followed her and took refugee inside the shop. She watched as the owner talked to the strange man and finally the man left. The owner returned to ask how he was, which John answered as honestly as possible. He was fine.

 

But the man intrigued him for sure.

 

 

* * *

 

Two days later, when he returned to the shelter, there seemed to be some commotion. A lot of people with flashy things—camera? –following a group of people stood in front of the shelter. People looked frantic and the charity agents (whom usually sat at the front desk playing with their phones) were standing and looking tight.

 

John felt he got nothing to do with it, so he walked through the back door instead. His slow gait was helped with the familiarity of the area, and he managed to reach the hallway not too far from his shared room.

 

Someone blocked him, and as he tried to walk around the figure, the man grabbed him by the shoulder. John flinched and his cranes fell. He almost went down, luckily two hands caught him and pulled him up.

 

“Hey, you alright, Baby bird?”

 

John blinked.  The name sounds familiar. But whose name?

 

“Baby bird? Tim?” The man asked. John recognised the name. It was the name the strange man from a few days ago called him with. Maybe this man was another person who was searching for this... Tim? Person. And maybe he looked similar with the Tim they were searching .

 

“sorry, I don’t know you.”

 

The man looked shocked, and then laughed hollowly. “I know I have wronged you the most, and you have no love lost for me, but that’s harsh, Baby Bird.”

 

John blinked. “So..Sorry. I’ve got amnesia since I woke up a year ago... so I really don’t know you.”

 

The man paled and he let John passed. John went to his room and to his bunk, putting himself on the bed. It was a tiring day as usual, and his knee was killing him. His rest was cut short when the door was opened and the team of guests entered the room.

 

The man who looked more important and well dressed than the others came in. Tim couldn’t pin point his face, but he could see how well build and muscular the man was. Their eyes met for a second, and the man looked shocked, but immediately carry on talking whatever he was talking. Behind him stood a teenager, looking bored.

 

“I would like to help more youngster,” the well dressed man said. “If I can help more, I would... just like this young man here, he has bright future in front of him.” He pointed at John before smiling and the thing—camera? Flashing left and right. It was so shining and blinding and John started to lost control of his eyelids. His body spasm uncontrollably and he lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up, he was in a hospital room of some sort. But it was a different room from his usual hospital room. The roof of the room was dark and they were sort of in a cave. There was only one other bed which was empty. The equipment looked more specific and new compared to the general public hospital he stayed in usually.

 

There was an older man, with his whitish hair and slim figure. John couldn’t recognize the face. He blinked and felt some braces, this time made of meal, were keeping his legs straight. And because of it, John couldn’t move his lower body parts.

 

“Wh..Where am I?” John asked. And then added, “..Sir?”

 

“You are in the Manor, Young Master.” The man answered gently. He pushed something into the drip. “You are save.”

 

“Wh..Why?”

 

“You had a light seizure and Master Bruce brought you here. We have been searching for you, for almost... a year now.”

 

“You did?” John blinked. “ You know me? Were we family?”

 

“Yes, Young Master.” The man answered and patted his forehead. It felt nice. “Welcome back.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of background what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim's a bit disjointed at times, and he might not make the perfect sense due to his brain injury. 
> 
> Also, he innately refused happiness, or remembering his past.

John woke up to strange place, metal brace on his legs, big IVs needle on his arms, and a sleeping man on the sofa by the bed. The man looked tired and wearing all black strong-looking shirt... very muscular.

 

John knew he had seen it before. And his head  started to hurt.

 

He shook his head and massaged his temple. He must not be too agitated. And he knew that man. That man was the one coming into his room yesterday, just before his seizure. Wein? Wane?

 

“Ah.” The man opened his eyes and caught Tim awake. He sat up from the comfortable looking sofa. “How do you feel? Anything in pain?”

 

John shook his head. “Just headache.... Sir.”

 

The man looked like he was in pain for a moment. It was gone as quickly as it came. “Good. You had a light seizure yesterday... It’s been a long time, Tim.”

 

John tilted his head. His headache became heavier after hearing that name. “I... My name is John, Sir. Do you know me? Who is Tim?”

 

The man flinched and coughed softly. “...Right. Tell me... Can you tell me a bit about yourself?”

 

“What do you want to know, Sir?” John kept his politeness. He was proud of it, the owner of the café told him it was one of his only redemption values aside from his cute face. It was what kept him alive in the shelter, because people are weak for the harmless cute amnestic boy.

 

The man looked sad. “... What’s your name? Where do you live.. what happened?”

 

John closed his eyes, reciting the information the nurses in the hospital told him before he went out. “My name is John Doe, I was found with head trauma and was in coma for three weeks. I live in the Gotham Shelter now. I work in Vegan Cafe. I don’t have...” John paused for a second. “I don’t have any family or money. The shelter never found my family, and nobody ever searched for me. If you know me, please contact the Shelter, they can help you.”

 

The man looked pained like John kicked him. John wondered why. And the headache went away. He blinked. Just like that, the memory from the past ten minutes was gone.

 

“Hello Sir. Do I know you? Why am I here? Where am I? I need to go to work, can you send me to the bus station?”

 

“John...?”

 

John blinked. “Yes?”

 

“Wha...? No, I mean, John? I was calling your name. You were rambling.”

 

“That’s my name, Sir. Do I know you? Am I late for work?”

 

“No... No need, John. You are back with us now... with me. I will take care of you.”

 

John tilted his head. “Are you my family? Why would you take care of me?”

 

The man looked like he was going to cry. “We are family. I am your father,... John.”

 

John blinked and recited the information ingrained in his memory. “I was found with head trauma and was in coma for three weeks. I live in the Gotham Shelter now. I work in Vegan Cafe. I don’t have any family and I am poor. If you know me, please contact the Shelter.”

 

The man looked confused.

 

John felt the need to explain. “I have bad memory, Sir. I don’t know you. I don’t remember anything and I am really forgetful. I am sorry if I have offended you. I am poor, so there is no money for ransom. Please contact the shelter if you have question. Ah, am I late for work? Is this the café? It doesn’t look like the café.”

 

The man suddenly moved and hugged John tightly. John blinked, smelling the weird smell that felt familiar... and his headache returned with vengeance. His head hurts. His chest hurts. The hug hurts.

 

“I am sorry.” The man whispered hoarsely. John could hear because they were so close. The man hugged like a tight blanket, very tight and hot. But John didn’t feel like hugging him back. He didn’t know this person, despite him feeling familiar. Partly because he wasn’t sure the man would like it, and partly because he wasn’t sure the man was right. What if John wasn’t his son? This man clearly missed his son, and mistaken John for him.

 

“You are here now, you are back. I will take good care of you, and you wont need to think of anything else. Just get better. Please.”

 

John nodded, closing his eyes. He always day dreamed about having family. When he joined the shelter, he believed one day his family would come and accept him. But he stopped wishing for it when three months in, and nobody came. Of course, he was so silly. He was found bleeding on an alleyway, with no cash or ID. Of course John is nobody, and have nobody.

 

This man just missed his son and mistaken John for him. But John let him, because maybe he could enjoy, just a moment of hug. Maybe he could be their family. Maybe.

 

The man rambled beside his ear. “I am.. sorry. I am so sorry. I fail you as a father. I am sorry. I love you... Tim. I love you.”

 

Why did the words felt like floating pass through his head? Why John felt like the man was saying empty words? Maybe because he wasn’t the man’s son. Maybe that’s why. Of course. It was a love not for John. But John can pretend it was for him. Just for a moment.

 

Ah... how he wished he was truly this man’s son.

 

* * *

 

 

John fell asleep after that, and when he woke up, there was another man there. John felt like he saw the man before. He was ... nice. Beautiful. His eyes were truly blue.

 

“Hi Tim... John. How are you feeling?”

 

“I am fine, thank you.”

 

“Remember me? I talked to you at the café you worked at the other day?”

 

“I do indeed work in a café, Sir. I am sorry my memory is bad. Do I know you?”

 

The man frowned and sat on the bed, body close to John. “...It’s alright. I... My name is Richard. You can call me Dick.”

 

“Why would you call yourself Dick?” John asked, genuinely interested. “Is that the trend now?”

 

The man—Dick, looked sad and smiled . he patted John’s hair gently. “Nah. I... It’s just stick.”

 

“Oh.” John nodded. “Do I know you?”

 

“Yes. You are my brother, Tim. You have amnesia, but you are here now, and we will help you heal. You will regain memory in no time.”

 

John frowned. “Are you sure? You may be mistaken me for someone else, Sir.”

 

“...Please call me Dick.” The beautiful man smiled sadly. John felt his chest started to thump. He knew this man is super attractive. “I am sure. We are all sure. You... You have his features, his scars... and no spleen. You are Timothy Drake Wayne. Tim. Timmy. You are my brother. We are family.”

 

“...Oh.” John looked away. This hurts. The sincerity and positive attitude this man gave him gave him a little hope, which will hurt him in the end. He had it the first three months in the shelter, wishing somehow he truly had a family and they would come. But after six months of nobody and no memory return, he resigned from wishing too much. He was a cripple without family. That was easier to believe. “What... What if you are wrong? I ... It’s been a year and nobody searched for me. Are you sure...? I am a cripple and a burden, nobody ever asked of me. Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. We ... I am sure. You are my precious little brother.” Dick looked pained but determined as he kissed John’s forehead. “Welcome back, little brother.”

 

“You promise...?” John asked, wondering why he felt so vulnerable in front of this man. He didn’t feel like this with the older Sir. “I am not wrong brother? You wont.. you wont return me if I am not truly your family? You promise you’ll keep me?”

 

“Cross my heart. I promise. You are my little brother no matter what.” Dick looked like he want to cry. “I promise I wont cast you away, or leaving you alone anymore. You are my precious little brother. Tim or John... You are my little brother. I love you. Please believe me.”

 

John smiled thinly and nodded. “Thank you.”

 

 

* * *

 

“...You can yell at me all you want.” Bruce solemnly looked down, face hidden in his palms. He was listening outside the door of the infirmary, where Tim who believed himself isn’t Tim, rests. The boy was in stable condition, aside from his less than satisfactory health, short-memory problem, crooked limped legs (due to his legs not healed properly), heavy head trauma (they found residue of bullet-woud-like scar tissue on the temporal to frontal lobe, which affect the memory and information storage) and the full amnesia.

 

Bruce didn’t know what to do. Facing his lost son made him weak. Tim was so vulnerable, believing he has no value, alone and so trusting that he would be send back to the shelter. Bruce knew that to physically heal Tim properly they need to re-break his bones and set it correctly. To mentally heal Tim would take long term professional therapy and probably some painful brain surgery. But he didn’t want to inflict more pain on Tim, physical or mental, not after all the pain he had been through.

 

Dick shook his head. “You are to blame just as much as I am.”

 

Bruce didn’t answer and kept his silent.

 

“You don’t get to expect retribution now, Bruce. I am not going to punish you for your conscience. I am to blame as much as you... maybe even more.”

 

Bruce immediately looked up and offered his arms. Dick took it and immediately hugged his father tightly. They screwed up. They just screwed up so bad.

 

Tim had been missing for six months before any of them noticed. Bruce thought Tim was away with Teen Titans. The Titans thought Tim was working for the Bats. Dick thought Tim was working underground. It was Jason who asked all of them where Tim was, because Jason needs some intel. And he was the one who alerted the family that Tim was gone for months.

 

At first they searched around, Bruce immediately suspected Ra’s. But when they infiltrated the Demon’s lair, Ra’s asked them where was Timothy, because it been months since he last played with the ‘Detective’. Realizing they have been wasting time searching the wrong places, Bruce turned to Tim’s known safe houses with no avail. Bruce, in his desperation eight months in, even listed Clark to hear Tim’s heart beat. Clark couldn’t find Tim, which Bruce knows why now (Tim’s heart beat rate changes due to the brain trauma).

 

It was out of pure coincidence Dick found Tim that day. Dick didn’t want to give up, so he started to manually search everywhere. And even though Tim changed a lot –his _limp_ , his _memory_ , his _posture_ , his _attitude_ , his _character_ —Dick knew John was Tim. He informed Bruce and the Bats spent no time chasing “John”. Thankfully because of Tim’s seizure, Bruce has a reason to officially took the crippled amnestic boy away for treatment. And there they were now, wondering how to atone their sins to Tim.

 

Sweet, trusting, innocent “ _John_ ” Tim.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to hear your thought, please ~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim wonders whether he has a place, then realises he has a place, and rejects the place he was offered.

“Why are you still here?”

 

The question woke John out from his trance and focused back to his surroundings.  He saw a boy, almost as tall as John was but his face still have leftover baby fat that definitely will go when the boy grew older. John shook his head to focus better. He had trouble remembering where he was, and found himself remembering that he was adopted into his “family” and this is their home.

 

“Hello. I am John.”

 

“You are not supposed to be here, Drake.” The boy spoke coldly. John blinked.

 

“I… I am sorry?”

 

“Why are you still here? You were the one who choose.”

 

“What did I choose?”

 

The boy looked pained for a second before ttch—ing and left the room. John wondered what that was. He blinked for a few minutes before realizing he hasn’t changed his pajamas pants. Oh, better change then, because it’s clearly noon and he needed to work.

 

The boy made him think, though. Does John have any place in this mansion?

 

 

* * *

 

John finally found himself down in the kitchen of sort. The house was like a gloomy maze; it was even bigger than the shelter, darker and filled with stuff John didn’t understand. Paintings and statues of the old and expensive kind litters around the hall and places. The carpet was thick and nice to step on. But the stairs were hard and it took fifteen minutes for John to climb down and wondered where he was.

 

Well, he kind of find the kitchen. John felt like he knew where it was and followed his instinct. He reached the place, a bright, open space with a big island in the middle and many chairs. It was different from the rest of the house. It felt like home. Someone’s home.

 

A nagging feeling slipped into John’s mind. He felt like he knew this place, but he felt like he didn’t belong there. So he stood outside the room, watching in. he felt he knew where the coffee maker was, even though John didn’t drink coffee that much—he didn’t have money to drink coffee for enjoyment. Usually the Café owner took a pity on him and share a cup every other week. The shelter has coffee in the morning, but the therapist told him that coffee worked against the medicine he took, so it was better to stay away from coffee.

 

His legs were giving away, so John slid down and sat on the floor. From the lower point of view, It felt familiar. He knew the despair of not being able to go in. Looking at the room just made him feel bittersweet. He felt he knew another kitchen, not the shelter kitchen. He knew another one like this, as big, as luxurious, as modern; but less bright. Just dim light and empty shelves. Alone.

 

It was sad, it was lonely, it was… the norm. Routine. Habit. He was always alone. And he came to accept it.

 

He wondered what his past was like. Everytime he tried to think about his past, he had massive headache. Everytime he felt he knew something, his hand or legs refused to corporate and just shook hard. Everytime he wanted to ask people, his vision blurred and so he stopped asking. It felt like in his own head, John _refused_ to remember. His body blocked his effort to remember. … Why?

 

“Master Tim.” The kind voice called him and Tim looked up. The older man was there.

 

“Hello.” John smiled at him. He felt familiar. He knew he always smiled to this old man, no matter what.

 

“Would you like to sit down on the chair? I will make some tea for you.”

 

“Oh, you don’t have to…” John shook his head, but he stood up. He slowly walked in, being directly invited by the old man. The invitation dissolved the barrier John felt from coming into the room, and he sat on one chair, the one he usually sat. John was surprised it felt right. The chair was… very familiar. It was his place. His chair.

 

“Here is your tea, Master Tim.” The well-dressed elder man put down a cup of nice smelling tea gently. John took it with slightly tremoring hand, and sipped. It was warm, not too hot. It was not sweet but smooth with a splash of milk. The tea smelled like flower. It was just right.

 

“… I … I used to be here, don’t I?” John asked, both to the old man and himself. “I feel like I know this chair, this tea… and you, sir.”

 

The old man smiled. “Yes, Master Tim. You always have your place here. In my kitchen.”

 

John felt himself smiling. “Thank you… Alfred.”

 

The old man nodded. “Sure thing, Master Tim. Glad you remember my name.”

 

 

* * *

 

While sitting and sipping the tea, another person came in. he was tall and big, with leather jacket and striking white bangs. The man looked carelessly entering the room, but immediately alerted when he saw John.

 

“Welcome, Master Jason. Please have a seat. Your lemon tea is almost done.”

 

The man called Jason walked slowly towards John and took the seat just beside John. He stared at John, hard. John stared back. He knew he saw this man when he returned to the shelter that last time. The man looked hurt when he thought John was ignoring him. This man knew him. This man… probably _cares_.

 

“…How are you?”

 

John blinked. “I am fine, thank you.”

 

“…Good.” Jason nod. They returned to silence. John looked back to his almost finish cup of tea, and wondering what should he do next (he just doesn’t feel right to do nothing. He needed to move, to do something. He felt like he needed to help others. He has intense need to be needed, that was what the therapist said).

 

Then he felt a gentle touch on his cheek. He turned to see Jason staring hard at him, looking very, very sad.

 

“I am sorry, baby bird.” The bigger man whispered. “I wont leave you now. Not ever.”

 

John didn’t know why, but he felt like screaming and crying. It was definitely inappropriate, so he chose to turn away and pushed his cup of tea.

 

“…Do you need any help, Alfred?” John asked instead, and ignoring the other person in the room for the rest of the day.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot access microsoft word without paying or going online. It's their trick to make money, yes, but it is so damn inconvenient. I cannot write when I dont have internet, so dont expect to have many updates from now on. 
> 
> ugh, why do they need to learn from apple. this sucks. any recommendation of microsoft word like program that can help me draft without internet or paying? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Made while listening Creep - Radiohead 
> 
> A glimpse of history!

_In his dream, he was not a freak or a disabled. He was a small, unimportant kid running and hiding behind stairs and buildings and balcony with his camera. Just a glimpse, just a stray sound. He wanted to capture it all. His body was still perfectly functioning and small. Despite his age, he was focused—just to get a picture of the two shadows. He knows he was a creep, and he wasn’t proud of it._

_Running, hide, run, run, hide. Click._

_And his night was made._

 

* * *

 

John woke up with a headache. It wasn’t unusual. The unusual thing was there was no ceiling right in front of him. The ceilings were high and dark in colour. Where was he?

 

Oh, right. He got taken home by someone… Wayne. Yes, his name was Wayne. Brian? Bruce.

 

Just in time when his door was knocked and the Butler—Alen? Alfred—came in, with a tray of breakfast.

 

“I took the liberty to bring your breakfast here, Master Tim.” He spoke in the perfect English accent of his, and started to put on a tray for Tim. There were eggs, bacon and beans on toast. Some hot tea and cold orange juice, as well as pieces of cantaloupe. “Please eat up. You need to eat before your morning medicine, Young Master.”

 

“Am I… Am I allowed to eat them?” John asked. His stomach was growling, but in the span of year he was in the shelter, breakfast was pretty much oatmeal on a good day and nothing on most days. He was used to taking the medicine with empty stomach, and how it hurts his stomach—but what’s a coat of paint on top of layers of pain?

 

“This is for you and you only, my dear Sir. Please do not let it go waste.” The butler answered with kind smile, and pushed the fork towards Tim’s hand.

 

“Thank you.” John smiled back, eyes a bit watery. It was just a miracle he ended up there, so he needed to enjoy it. There will always be expiration date for miracles, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Rick—no, Dick entered the room when John finished his breakfast and medicine. Because he was unable to walk that day—his crooked leg was unbearably painful, so he was wheeled downstairs. Dick carried him down the stairs, such an easy thing for the older man to just put up with John’s weight and princess carried him down. John weakly protested, but Dick was adamant.

 

They ended up in the infirmary-like room again. John was asked to sit on the bed, while Dick and Bruce hooked him to some machines. And then they told him, slowly and softly, that they needed to reopen the metal brace and break the bones again, in order to make it grow right. It will be very painful, but John will get some medicine that will make him sleepy and painless.

When the information set in, John panicked. He begged them, tearfully, to not break anything. He couldn’t afford another surgery, he didn’t have money and he doesn’t need more repair. He was fine just like that, he promised. He could walk and work properly, if just a bit slow. So please, please do not hurt him anymore. Please send him back to the shelter. Please. He could still work just like that. Please.

 

When finally Dick calmed him down, John was a mess of tears, snot and hoarse throat. He vomited his breakfast as well, and his whole lap was filled with munched saliva, eggs, cantaloupe and orange juice. John fell asleep not long after, stomach empty and body cold; but his mind blank.

 

* * *

 

 

_He knew he was a creep that doesn’t fit the family-group-team or whatever they were._

_The one he Idolized was dead and he ended up as the substitute who never measured up. He trained and gave it all—still the Man wouldn’t look at him. But then, His Idol returned to life (and he was so fucking happy for it). Finally he could show his effort to His Idol. To be… loved._

_But His Idol tried to kill him. And he didn’t know why, or how stupid he was, but he still loves His Idol so much. So, so much. Even though His Idol hates him. Because His Idol was special. He would do anything to make His Idol happy. Whatever His Idol wants, he will give and more. His Idol was very, very special._

_He wish he was special too._

 

* * *

 

 

John woke up, feeling painless and floaty like he was in cloud. His head was empty and light, his mouth dry. His leg was up and in plaster. Stiff. He knew it had been re-broken and reset. They did it without telling him. What’s done was done; though. There’s no point getting angry about it.

 

But his chest felt a bit painful. He woke up to find he was changed. Why? Why people always want to change him?

 

Does nobody want John as John? (Well, why would they, anyway? John was a crippled and a creep).

 

He closed his eyes. Sleepy and lightheaded, he went back to sleep. Let the pain go, John just needed to enjoy the precious moments where pain wasn’t constant.  

 

* * *

 

  

_He tried to mend the wrong. He tried to make His Idol understand. He was a replacement, yes, but a poor replacement. The family needs His Idol more than they need him. Despite bruises and pain His Idol caused, he kept coming back. His idol needs to understand how important it was for everyone for him to come back._

_When His Idol finally returned to the family, he was overjoyed and felt accomplished._

_When His Idol start to date the first son, the angel, he was crushed._

_His heart was broken to pieces and crushed under His Idol’s boot. Yet he is a replacement, so he doesn’t have the right to demand love. The angel and His Idol looked perfect together, the epitome of love._

_He just need to live with his broken heart. He is a creep and a broken hearted. But his body was still perfect._

_Creep doesn’t deserve love anyway._

 

* * *

 

 

John was woken up by the butler again, to have something in his stomach. He just meekly eat whatever was given to him, and it tasted delicious. He somehow has returned to his own room, and the room was warm and bright. The food was good and his leg was stiff and painless.

 

It felt like a dream.

 

Speaking of dream, he dreamt some snippets of things. Something he felt he had forgotten, and important. But he didn’t want to remember. Because when he remembered, the miracle expires and John would return to be a crippled creep again.

 

* * *

 

_But the creep wants more, still._

_So when the angel and His Idol broke up, he felt guilty that it made him happy. His idol is single again. Ready to receive his love._

_His idol was drinking himself to sleep when he sneaked in, arms open to comfort and heart so big it can drown ocean in it. Ready to capture the broken pieces of His Idol and made it whole again. To make His Idol happy, always. Because His Idol is special. And creep likes special. Creep wants a perfect body and soul to love His Idol. His idol should be happy, always. Even at the expense of Creep’s happiness._

_Two weeks with His Idol were the best moment of his live. He doesn’t care that he was the rebound partner. All he cared was His Idol was happy, His Idol was enjoying himself, and he smiled at him. Once._

_Creep wanted to frame that smile on his bedroom wall. A picture so beautiful he could cry over every night when the dream ended._

_And it ended too soon. He woke up with empty bed, a note “I’m sorry” and he knew it was the end._

* * *

 

 

“How pathetic are you, Drake?” was the first thing he heard when he opened his eyes.

 

Jon blinked. That was a good question, actually. He had spent the last three days in bed, because of his leg. He even had bedpan and meals on bed. Every night, Bruce or Dick would come by and make some conversation. They brought him picture books too, which was very kind of them. John likes the picture books. Especially about families and robin birds. In essence, John was being spoilt. He always asked himself whether he was worthy of it.

 

It was still afternoon, though, so Bruce or Dick wasn’t there. Instead, stood the last child; Damen—Damian. John slowly reclined his bed up—he learned how to do it after Alfred taught him for meals –and faced his visitor.

 

“…I don’t know.” He answered honestly. He knows he is a cripple, but does that counts?

 

“You’ve said yourself that it was the end. You want out. I helped you. But you still here.” Damian snarled; but he avoid John’s eyes. Instead he glared at the floor in front of him, as if they were the one wrong. “ _Why are you still here_?” he continues, with smaller voice.

 

John couldn’t answer it as Damian quickly left the room. Alfred appeared not a moment after and put down a tray of afternoon tea and snacks beside the bed. John watched as the butler done so, feeling lost and helpless.

 

“…I don’t belong here, Alfred.” Was what came out of his mouth. And it was the truth.

 

Suddenly he was hugged from the side by the butler. “No matter what, you still have place here, with me, Master Tim.” Alfred whispered softly. “Always.”

 

John shook his head, and it was the last thing he did before he had another seizure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be careful of abuse and rape next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reveal. Warning: Rape, suicidal thoughts. Angst.

The last seizure was apparently quite bad, as John found himself waking up in the infirmary again. Beside him stood Alfred with his worried eyes and another person with white streaks on his hair. John blinked and tried to speak, which immediately alerted him about the pain on his tongue.

 

“You bit your tongue quite badly, Baby Bird. We managed to save it, so try not to move it for a while.” The other man softly told him, rough and big hand gently wiping his forehead. John blinked.

 

“I’ll leave the rest to you, Master Jason.” Alfred nodded and smiled at John before leaving the room. John blinked and felt scared when Alfred left. He didn’t want to be left with this man, he didn’t really know and subconsciously trying to avoid. He was … simply afraid. He had been hurt before; and he didn’t want pain anymore, in any form.

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, Baby Bird. I am not going to break your bones or anything.” The man spoke softly, with his rough voice. “I know I don’t have any reason to make you believe me, but I promise my life I won’t leave you again. Please believe me.”

 

John blinked and hunched, trying to keep himself away from the man. The man was very handsome in a rough way, familiar in a scary and melancholic way, and the kindness he was showing to John was scary. Because that kindness doesn’t belong there. His head hurts.

 

“N..No,” he stammered. John tried to fold into himself. “Please.. no.”

 

“No, what, Baby?”

 

“Don’t be… Don’t come near, please.” John cried. “Don’t… hurt me, please. Don’t lie.”

 

“…I apologise.” The man moved away. But he didn’t leave the bed. He just stood there, beside John’s bed.“I… I promised I won’t leave you anymore, Tim. Timmers. No matter what you say; I.. I am sorry.”

 

“You left.” The words came out of his mouth and it surprised John as well. “You left and it makes you happy. I was… I was sad. Real sad.”

 

The man looked torn. “You remember that?”

 

“I was… You were… We were there. A bed. Together.” John spoke up, and tears fell down. “ _I… I loved you_.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t deserve it. Not then, not now. But a man is weak, yeah? I.. I want you too, Baby Bird.”

 

“But you left.”

 

“Yes. I was an ass.” The man loomed over John again, and this time he touched John’s cheek softly. “Now I am not. I am sorry, Baby Bird.”

 

He kissed John. John felt his world turned upside down.

 

Then it was all dark.

* * *

 

 

_The week was difficult. Creep didn’t sleep much, and cried most of the time when it was alone. It could maintain just barely, the mask of a normal human; a CEO and a vigilante. Just barely._

_Creep didn’t look for his Idol. Idol has chosen, and well, Creep wasn’t chosen._

_Creep was just… a tad bit suicidal. Not much, but just a small hesitation here and there. It wanted everything to end. To stop hurting. To stop being creep. Creep wanted to be noticed._

_It was noticed, indeed. But with the wrong sort. And they got it one night when it came back from WE at dawn. They took it easily as it was weak from no sleep and food. They took Creep._

_They took Creep’s everything._   

* * *

John screamed. Screamed and screamed. He didn’t want to remember this part.

 

No, No. No. NO.

 

Screamed and screamed till his face was cakey and his voice tore; he noticed several someone tries to hold him. Yet John continued to scream, because he didn’t want to relive it. He doesn’t want to remember. It’s preferable to remember nothing than the horrible thing he had.

 

Someone stung his arm. And he went unconscious again.

 

* * *

 

_How long can a Creep last? It counted Its fingers. They were broken. No nails. Bleeding._

_It counted its legs. Two, with one in different direction._

_It counted its body. One, full of bruises. Pain. And semen._

_It was broken. But they asked Creep information to destroy Batman because Creep was the CEO of WE who supports Batman. As useless as Creep was, it still loves Batman. So, No telling._

_Its love for Batman, Nightwing, Oracle, Red Hood and Robin made Creep stays human. Without the love, Creep was just a creature nobody wanted._

_It felt sad. But it still waits._

_Help will come. Batman will come. They will come. Idol will come._

_Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come. Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come. Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come. Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come. Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come. Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come. Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come. Help will come.Batman will come.They will come. Idol will come._

_…Will they?_

* * *

 

“Do you feel better?” Dick Grayson asked him when he opened his eyes.

 

John—no longer John; Tim. Tim opened his eyes and turned to face Dick. The beautiful face full of promise of love but nothing else. Only promise. “You never came.”

 

“John?”

 

“You never came. I waited. But you never came. Nobody came.” Tim whispered, in hate he never knew he had. “You never came. I waited. I believed in you. But none of you came.”

 

“Jo… Tim? I am sorry, I know I was wrong, I will make it up to you.”

 

“What good is it now? A broken boy to satisfy your guilt?” Tim asked; this time stronger. He hates this man. He hates it here. He hates them.

 

“No, Tim. We are all sorry and we will never let you down again. We love you, Baby Bird.”

 

“I was a fool to believe that. Fool me twice, shame on _you_.” Tim gritted his teeth. Damn it was so bad. He wants to hit this person so bad.

 

There was another voice. “I am sorry, Tim…”

 

“Then let me die already. I don’t need your half-assed apology.” Tim hissed. He doesn’t want to turn his head to face his mentor. Before any of them answers; Tim assesses the situation and saw the needle to his arms. He immediately tries to ripe it away, despite the heaviness of his limbs. He succeeded in ripping off the needles, and spent no time in pushing it into his left chest. The sting told him it punctured something. But not as deep as he wanted it to be.

 

Immediately he was held down by two strong hands; and he was unable to move. Tim saw his legs on a cast. Fuck. They broke his leg again. He growled in frustration.

 

“What else do you want from me!?” he screamed. Desperately. “Let me go!”

 

“We will, if you promise not to hurt yourself.” Dick pleaded.

 

“Then kill me.” Tim spat; his teeth grinded so hard. “You said you love me, yeah? Now, give me what I want.”

 

“..What you need is not what you want, Baby Bird.”

 

Tim just realized Jason was there as well. He smiled. “Jay? You love me, right Jay? Then let me go, Jay. Take me away from here.”

 

“..No. You need help, Timmers…”

 

“Fuck you very much!” Tim screamed, “Fuck you all! LIARS!” he screamed as loud as he could. Tears were running through his face like broken faucet. Why won’t they give him what he wanted the most? “LIARS!”

 

In between his mania, Tim saw Demon standing by the door, with Alfred. He smiled. “Demon… Damian. You were there. You want me gone, right? I am almost gone, Demon. Shoot me again, please?”

 

Damian paled and hid behind Alfred. Tim felt his anger flared again. “Hiding? Coward! COWARD!” it was then he felt another shot of anesthesia. The anger flared down, replaced by numbness. He stopped moving and struggling. He doesn’t have control of his body. He calmed down, while his tears stopped spilling.

 

“Tim, I am sorry. Please stop this… hurting yourself. Please.” Dick mumbled on his forehead, Tim noticed between bouts of sleepiness. “We are sorry, deeply sorry. We didn’t notice in time, we were all away. We thought you were with the Titans; they thought you were with us. We are so very sorry. We love you, so much. We want you to live, Tim. We love you.”

 

Tim refused to stay awake.

 

* * *

  

_Creep crept slowly towards the Mansion. It was a hill and three blocks away from where it was; but Creep knew it could make it. Creep finally managed to escape by pretending it was dead. A broken leg and slowly crawling away from where they dumped it. Creep needs to go back to the Mansion, so people wouldn’t be worried._

_Finally when Creep managed to reach the Manor’s front door, it used its head to knock the door because its whole body was hurt. The door opened and Creep fell down onto the cold floor. “_ Drake _?” a voice called and Creep saw Robin. The Demon was standing by the end of the tunnel._

_It was the second time Creep felt hope blossomed when it saw Demon. The first time was when Demon came. It thought Creep would have a little brother to love then._

“What do you actually want, Drake? I thought you were pathetic, but this is even more pathetic than I thought you were.” _The Demon taunted Creep. The Demon knows Creep’s weakness too well. And The Demon was right. “_ You are unworthy of the Cape and Father, Drake. Look at you.”

_Creep wanted to cry then._

“Nobody wants you. Nobody even realise you were gone. The Manor is peaceful and better without you. Have you no shame, crawling with your … pathetic-ness… and bother Father and Grayson?”

 

_Creep refused to believe it, and so it asked._

 

“They are not here, they are with the Justice League.”

 

_Creep felt pain so sharp it overcome all the other pain it was in right that time. Nobody realise Creep was gone, kidnapped, tortured, raped. Nobody noticed. Nobody love Creep. Oh how sad, how pitiful._

_It was then Creep starting to really cry in pain. The pain in its body, the pain of sadness, the pain of loneliness.it has enough. Creep has enough. Why it never learns?_

_Creep looked up to the Demon. Creep felt hope blossomed then. It asked Demon’s help._

“I want out… Just this one, my wish. Kill me, please. Put me in peace.”

 

* * *

 

“… I shot him because I don’t want to use my Katana. And… I left him in the hospital.” A voice softly said. “I am sorry. I know I am wrong, Father, Grayson. I am sorry.”

“Why did you left him in the hospital?”

 

“…because I realized when I saw Drake that I don’t want him to die on me. He… is my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is the conclusion. Thank you for being with me through this story.


End file.
